


Overlooked and Underestimated

by nervousubgirl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Lydia Martin, BAMF Peter, Banshee Lydia Martin, Drama, Drama & Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Manipulative Peter, My First Fanfic, Oblivious, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Protective Peter, Protectiveness, Psychological Drama, Recovery, Sassy Lydia, Sassy Peter Hale, Scenting, Slow Build, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-01-16 01:26:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1326637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervousubgirl/pseuds/nervousubgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Nogitsune takes Lydia it overlooked the connection she had to a certain werewolf and it underestimated just how important she was to him. The bond between Peter and Lydia is revealed, tested and threatened. In the aftermath Lydia will find herself relying on Peter for more than she ever thought she could as she attempts to unite those she cares for. But will Peter's lust for power prevent him from seeing what he really needs?</p>
<p>(This is the first fan fiction I have ever written so I hope I did everything correctly. Please be kind, comments and suggestion would be appreciated.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Nogitsune vs the Banshee

**Author's Note:**

> As I mentioned in the summary, this is the first time I have written fan fiction. I was inspired by the scenes with Peter and Lydia in 3x22 and this picks up after and is loosely based on some of the scenes for the upcoming episode (3x23). This story will have several chapters I hope and many of the tags I included are not for this first part but warnings for the direction I am hoping to go in. Also Peter and Lydia are not in a relationship in this first chapter, but they do have a connection or type of bond that will be leading to a more developed relationship later on. Lydia has not necessarily forgiven Peter for some of his past cruelty at this point. If anyone has suggestions on how to improve any of this or corrections if I messed something up please let me know! Thanks for reading! :)

Lydia stood shaking, tears running tracks down her pale face. The nogitsune was taunting her. It kept talking about how it had taken her right under their noses, how they wouldn’t find her, how they probably weren’t even looking. She could feel it’s breath on her neck and she cringed farther into the metal bars. She clung to them desperately. Her body trembled as she felt its hands on her waist. Its nose ran up her neck and it whispered hotly into her ear. She felt its cupid bow lips brush the shell of her ear and had to swallow down panic. She squeezed her eyes shut, hating the way it still looked like Stiles, but she couldn’t block out his voice. This was the face of a boy that had once looked at her with such admiration and loyalty, a boy she had begun to consider her best friend. Now his face looked at her with eyes that looked dead and cold. It was ranting about how none of them understood, how they were all too stupid and how they would never stop it because none of them were intelligent enough. 

Lydia let out a hollow chuckle. When she spoke her voice trembled more with anger than fear and she felt proud for that at least. Clinching her jaw she forced the words through gritting her teeth, “I can see how you might think some of us are a bit slow to connect the dots. I was told that Derek asked why you would choose Stiles, weak, human Stiles. Even Derek who cares more for Stiles than any of us didn’t see why you would want to possess him rather than one of the stronger, more durable werewolves. But while he might not have understood, I knew immediately why you picked Stiles. I could see that you didn’t need strength or power; you have that on your own. What you needed was protection. And what better for that than a human shield. You picked the best one too. Not only would every single person here hesitate to cause any harm to you while you were in Stiles’ body, we would all go out of our way to protect you. All methods to get rid of you suddenly had to be nonlethal. You had your own personal protection detail complete with a sheriff, hunters, werewolves, werecoyote, druids, kitsune, and a banshee. And we would protect you as long as you had HIS face, as long as you were in HIS body. Because that body, that boy is worth protecting. Because we all love Stiles.” Lydia raised her chin, glaring straight ahead, “so you see we’re not all as ignorant as you would love to believe. I saw through you.” 

The nogitsune gave a cruel, manic laugh. “Well now, aren’t you a smart one. Although I would expect nothing less from you. I’m well aware of your intelligence Lydia Martin. After all, I was in Stiles’ head. Looking through his thoughts, memories, seeing through his eyes. You’re a genius, top of your class, with such a bright future ahead of you. You were supposed to go get a fields medal weren’t you?” He laughed, reaching up and fisting his hand in her hair he yanked her head back. Lydia couldn’t stop herself from hissing as her fair neck was exposed. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the bars and she felt a nail chip. “How’s that going for you? Hmm? Do you honestly think you can have that future, that you’ll live long enough to reach that pathetic little dream? You’re never going to graduate. No one will remember your name. You will just be another baffling unsolved murder in this hell hole. You’re not going to be walking out of here little banshee. The last thing you’ll hear is your scream foreshadowing your own death.”

Lydia tried to ignore the ache in her neck, but despite how vulnerable of a position she was in her voice was stronger, filled with certainty. “You think no one is going to come for me but you see, that’s where you’re wrong.”

“Really? Who’s gonna come for you? Stiles? I think we both know his little crush on you has shifted into a preference for leather jackets and stubble. He’s happy to be rid of me. I doubt he will be running to confront me any time soon. The little huntress would probably come for you but I’m afraid she ran into three feral werewolves at the school and regardless of how talented she might be with a bow that’s not very good odds is it? So who else is there? That werewolf with anger issues, what was his name? Aidan? I hate to be the one to break it to you but you were nothing more than an easy fuck for him. The only thing that made you worth his time was how easily you spread those creamy thighs of yours. And even if they cared for some reason about you, do you honestly think they would be capable of stopping me, of saving you?” The nogitsune tisked. “Lydia even if you did see through me, I think we both know none of your little high school friends are on the same intellectual level as you are.”

“Your right,” she whispered. “They aren’t, the only one of my friends even close is Stiles and I pray to god that he stays far away. He’s suffered enough because of you. But I’m afraid you’ve overlooked something. There is one person that surpasses even me, one person conniving and cunning enough to beat even a trickster like you. Peter Hale.”

“Peter Hale?! The crazy werewolf that manipulated and used you as an insurance policy? The guy that slaughtered his own niece for power?” The nogitsune scoffed. “What makes you think he would risk his neck to save you? Peter Hale only gives a damn about himself.”

Lydia gave him a defiant look. “Of course that’s what you think, because that is exactly what he wants you to. Although it’s true I wouldn’t exactly call him a friend, or describe him as heroic, he is dependable. He will manipulate and twist words every possible way but he never lies. If Peter makes a promise he keeps it. And he swore to me that everything would go back to normal as long as I did what he told me to. He owes me everything, owes me his very existence. In return for giving him life, he promised that he would do whatever he could to ensure I had a chance at the life I want.” Lydia sneered at him. 

“Not to mention I am his key to forgiveness. I know him, I understand him better than anyone so if anyone can explain and defend him to everyone else it’s me. He smart enough to know that after all of the horrible things he has done, I am his only chance at redemption. Everyone sees him crazy, incapable of feeling guilt and concerned only with his own survival. But they don’t see what I see, don’t know what I know. When he was in my head, there were times that he was terrifying, that he tormented me. Yet he was the only person that I didn’t have to be fake with, I never had to hide what I thought or felt, never had to dumb it down or dress it up or explain it away, not for him. He didn’t have to have conversations with me, to be kind, to make me feel like I was worth something again. No one else knows that side of him, the side that felt bad for hurting me, that tried to use more gentle means of persuasion to get me to do what he needed. No one else saw the way he looked at the ground with guilt the first time I saw him after he used me. And when I was in Stiles’ mind, it was Peters voice that broke through your trick. They didn’t notice how he got in front of me when we brought Stiles back, how he was protecting me. No one noticed that in that moment when I was afraid I reached for him too. When I need help or answers, it’s Peter that I call. I called him when I needed help understanding what it means to be a banshee, and I called him when we needed help with Stiles. And he came, because he will always come when I call for him. You see, Peter bit me. And although I was immune to the transformation, I’m not immune to all of its effects. It formed a connection, the one he used to come back and it made me a part of his pack until I decide to sever the bond.”

“Why the hell would you want to remain a part of his pack? He’s not exactly the most stable werewolf to pick for an ally.” Lydia gave a humorless laugh. 

“And who else would I want to be tied to? Derek, with his temper problem and propensity for getting his ass kicked, usually by his love interests? Scott, who tends to think with his dick and has an inability to finish the job thanks to his savior complex? Isaac is like a puppy and the twins can hardly be trusted. Peter can be a cold, calculating, manipulative bastard but he is ruthless enough to do what needs to be done, and he always survives. I’m smart enough to know that being connected to someone like that was bound to come in handy. And he didn’t break the connection because without it he would be an omega. I may not give him as much power as having a werewolf in his pack would but I give him enough to make me useful. And like I said, I’m his only chance of being accepted into Scott’s pack.” Lydia glared at the nogitsune. “So what all of this boils down to is that Peter Hale is mine and I am his. Somehow I don’t think he is going to be happy about you trying to take me away from him,” she said in her bitchiest voice. 

Not giving him the chance to respond Lydia threw her head back and screamed with all she had. She hadn’t even been sure if it would work, because this was not the scream of death, this was the scream of a banshee signaling her location to her pack. The nogitsune stumbled backwards, clutching its hands over its ears. Lydia fumbled her way past him and up the stairs still screeching. She knew she had to get as far as possible before it ended. Screaming always drained her, it would leave her vulnerable and weak. As it died away, leaving her dizzy and in a fog she heard it. A familiar furious roar not far, and racing closer that had once haunted her nightmares. Now it filled her with such relief that she couldn’t stop the sob that tore its way out of her throat. Peter was coming.


	2. Like a Cat with a Mouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone that has commented, left kudos, or made suggestions! :) Please keep the feedback coming, it really helps me improve and keeps me motivated to continue. I don't know why I was so afraid to post this, you have all been so nice! I'll try to have chapter 3 up within a week. WARNINGS for this chapter: a little bad language, threats, and a bit of violence I guess.

Lydia slammed her hands into the door pushing it open as hard as she could. It clanged into the wall, the sound echoing eerily. Her ears were ringing and the world seemed to be spinning. She couldn’t stop, she had to keep moving. Everything seems to slow down as she pushes herself forward on legs that feel like lead. The nogitsune was behind her. It wasn’t even trying to catch up, just walking slowly. It was playing with her. ‘Like a cat with a mouse,’ she thought distantly. In that moment she felt disgusted with herself. She despised how helpless she felt but she was just so dizzy. She pushed herself on, stumbling down the narrow hall. It laughs at her, the sound muffled and closer than she thought it was and she lurched forward with a gasp. Her vision tilted as she careened into the wall and down to the ground. There seems to be a ‘pop’ and then sound rushed back to her with overwhelming clarity as the ringing finally stopped. Her palms and knees are scraped bloody, tiny bits of broken glass from the ground embedded in the skin. As the scent of her blood fills the air she hears Peter snarl. Lydia tried to scream his name but it came out a weak, strangled sound. Whimpering she crawled forward through the dark toward the sound of his growls. The glass was pushed deeper and she welcomed the pain let it tie her to reality. She can hear his footsteps, boots pounding relentlessly. The sounds echoed in the dark. He’s so very close. 

The nogitsune crouched over her and she cringed away, curling up next to a wall. It kneeled in front of her, staring at her through beautiful amber eyes that were impossibly cold. She could see the puffs of her breath in the cold air. She observed distantly that the nogitsune’s breath isn’t visible though she can feel it brush over her face. The monster’s temperature must have dropped and she shivered as it’s icy breath cooled her tear tracks. Reaching out it ran a finger over her bare knee, smearing the blood. She flinched away.

“Oh sweetheart you’re not getting away that easily,” it murmured. It tilted it’s head calculatingly and smiled at what it heard. Suddenly the doors at the end of the hall burst open and light streaked through. Peter is wolfed out, snarling furiously. His eyes burned brightly as he snapped his fangs. The nogitsune smirked and its hand jerked out impossibly fast. Fisting its fingers in Lydia’s strawberry blonde hair it used the grip to yank her brutally to her feet in front of it. She could feel it pressed all along her back, the line of its body like ice. ‘Like a corpse.’ It’s free hand wound around her to run over her waist then trailed up between her breasts to wrap around her neck. Peter lurched forward and the nogitsune stepped back pulling viciously at her hair and tightening its grip on her neck. Lydia let out a sobbing whimper. Her eyes squeezed shut and tears dripped from her jawline. Peter froze, eyes flashing wildly. The nogitsune chuckled, clucking its tongue. “Hmmm, I think that’s close enough mutt, unless you want me to snap her pretty little neck… I bet it would make such a lovely sound.” Lydia’s eyes snapped open, fire burning in them. She hated this thing. Hated its breath on her skin, hated its voice that, once endearing and kind, then just sounded malicious. Her skin crawled where it touches her. She took in the sight of Peter. His toned body taunt, muscles tensed. The clothes he was wearing were torn and wrinkled. He must have run through the woods all the way from Scott’s house. She couldn’t help but think, ‘this can’t be Peter, he never looks this bedraggled’ and then had to fight down a hysterical giggle as she thought, ‘that’s probably what he’s thinking about me.’ He seemed to be shaking with the effort to stay back and his face was set in grim lines. She stared into his eyes, willing him to understand. She wanted this thing dead. She wanted it bleeding on the ground. If anyone could accomplish that it would be him. His jaw clenched for a moment. He gazed at her with assessing eyes, taking in her frayed dress, smeared makeup and bloody knees. 

“I want nothing to do with this mess, I don’t give a damn what you do to this shithole little town. All I want is the girl,” Peter said carefully around his fangs. The nogitsune sneered at him.

“Oh but you are a part of this mess. At first I just took Lydia here for her talents but imagine my delight when she explained how very important she was to you. The son of a bitch responsible for me losing Stiles, my… human shield as Lydia so accurately described.” Its laughter bounced off the walls. Lydia’s eyes filled with horror at what she had given away. She could see the muscle in Peter’s jaw twitch.

“Yes well, it’s always useful for us mere mortals to have a banshee for insurance purposes. Given how you’re timeless I fail to see how she could be very useful for you. As for Stiles, if you want the hyperactive little bastard then he’s yours. I’ll even help you get him back,” Peter said with an infinitesimal amount of worry in his otherwise calm voice. Lydia was horrified to realize that he wasn’t lying. ‘Oh god, he’s gonna just hand over Stiles.’ Her heart clenched and her stomach twisted. Peter didn’t even flinch at the disgust that must have been written all over her face. He just looked straight into the nogitsune’s eyes, the same whiskey eyes belonging to the boy that he was offering to this monster. Peter’s gaze was cold and calculating. 

“NO! You can’t jus –“ 

The hand on her neck clenched strangling her protest. Lydia clawed at its arm digging her nails into its skin to no effect. A low growl rumbled from Peter’s chest and finally the hand loosened enough for her to desperately suck in a breath.

“Mmmm, well as tempting as that offer may be….,” the nogitsune said with laughter in its voice “I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass. I’ve grown fond of our little Lydia. She just screams soooo beautifully.”

The nogitsune gripped her hair tighter and jerked her head to the side, running its fingers down to teasingly skim over the swell of her breast. Lydia let out a gasp and her lip trembled with a new kind of terror. As it licked a long stripe up the side of her neck she let out a wounded noise before pressing her lips into a thin line. A snarl tore its way out of Peter, his fangs lengthening impossibly more. He lost it, charging forward. The nogitsune chuckled in her ear. Lydia struggled against its grip, reaching out to Peter. She was pleading for him, eyes wide and tear filled. He was so close she could see the different shades of blue shining in his eyes. A drop of blood fell from her outstretched fingertips. “LYYDDDIIIAAAAAA!!” His claw tipped fingers just barely brushed her skin as smoke wrapped around her and everything went dark.


	3. His Charred Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's reaction to the nogitsune disappearing with Lydia. Derek sees Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I'm not really completely happy with this chapter but I felt like I needed to post something. Warnings: Some violence, bad language. Please let me know if there's anything I messed up.

“LYYDDDIIIAAAAAA!!” He could just barely feel her. A faint whisper of skin on skin. Then nothing. His hands clutch at the dark billowing smoke, catching on nothing. She’s gone. “No. No,no, NO! SHIT!!!” Peter falls to the ground, his nails gouging the concrete. Mind reeling he doesn’t know how long he kneels there gasping for air before Scott finally catches up. The alpha slams through the door with red eyes blazing. Peter crashes his fist into the ground, cracks snaking out from the dent. Gasping for air he tries to get back his control. ‘She was right there!’ He swallows down bile. ‘It’s going to hurt her. Oh god, it’s going to hurt her to punish him. It’ll all be his fault.’ Eyes flashing Peter lets out an anguished howl. 

“Peter?” Scott’s voice is hesitant, trembles like no alpha’s voice should. “What….where’s Lydia?” Scotts arm reaches out to offer comfort but the movement is aborted at the last moment and drops back by his side. Out of the corner of his vision Peter sees him shift awkwardly, confused and uncertain. Peter looks away, his knuckles knitting themselves back together. His hands are shaking so he curls them into fists. The feeling of his claws digging into his palms are a small relief. He barely feels in control on a good day, always feeling like he could so easily slip back to that dark charred place the fire left burned into his very soul. Now he struggles desperately to hold onto what's left of his sanity. He needs to stay in control, needs to be able to find her. 

“It took her, I was too late,” he grits out. He hears tires screeching down the road. Standing Peter strides past Scott who’s kneeling with fiery eyes looking at the traces of her blood on the ground. ‘It made her bleed. The cost for that will be its life.’ Resolved, Peter stalks out to the front of the building. Deaton’s SUV comes sliding to a stop and out stumbles the vet, Melissa, and Stiles. Despite clearly being weakened Stiles is the first to stumble to a stop in front of him. It takes every ounce of control he has left to keep from shredding that face off the bone. ‘He isn’t the nogitsune, the time for that will come.’ 

“What happened?!!!” Stiles pants. “Where is she?” His voice is filled with panic that makes irrational jealous sweep through Peter and he has to pause to stomp it down.

“They’re gone.” Peter runs a hand through his hair. 

“What the hell do you mean gone?! Gone where?” Stiles heart is thumping erratically. 

“I mean they vanished into smoke, Stiles. It took her. Do you want me to draw you a fucking picture?” Peter snaps. 

“Well then why aren’t you tracking her? Get your ass back in there and sniff her out!!!” he screeches hysterically, face pale. Peters eyes flash and he stalks forward a step before a calm voice interrupts. 

“I’m afraid it may not be that simple Stiles. If the nogitsune is using the same type of transportation methods that the Oni utilize then it will be impossible to follow. It leaves no trace, no trail.” Deaton sounds speculative, calm, and unconcerned. It grates on Peters nerves. 

Peter turned his back on them, pulling out his cell phone. “Derek, get Isaac and get to the loft. It’s about Lydia. I’ll explain everything when we get there." Not waiting for a response he hung up. Taking a deep breath he turned around to find everyone staring at him. Immediately his face fell into a mask of arrogant boredom. “What now?” he asked exasperated. 

“What are you doing? Why exactly are you even here?” Stiles said with narrowed eyes. 

“You really want to discuss this now?” he snapped. They all just looked at him. “Fine! I’ll make it simple for you. I’m well aware of the fact that I’m not exactly popular around here. If one of you idiots actually manages to kill me…again... then I need a back-up plan. That requires a banshee. Unfortunately the only banshee we have was just taken. Are you still confused?” Peter gritted out. They had suspicion written all over their faces. He gave a frustrated growl and ignoring them he turned away. As he started running toward the loft Peter could hear Stiles start babbling. 

“Oh my god, you mean he can come back again? I thought that was a one-time deal…”. Peter blocked out the sounds of their voices running faster. Arriving at the loft he didn’t bother knocking. Walking in he came face to face with a snarling Aiden. 

“Where the hell is she? What did you do?” the pup was right up in his face. He smelled like Lydia and Peter felt the last of his patience snap. Roaring he sank his claws into Aiden’s torso, slamming him up against the wall. He felt hands grabbing him. It took Ethan, Derek, and Isaac to pull him off. As they pinned him to the ground Scott came running through the door. 

“Jesus! That’s enough” he commanded in the alpha voice. Immediately everyone stopped although Peter and Aiden still glared at each other for a moment, teeth bared. Peter started looking through some books as Scott told everyone what had happened.

“That still doesn’t explain why he’s here” Aiden said with a sneer. Peter growled. 

“Stop it! Peter’s the one that figured out how to get Stiles back. Regardless of the reason, he’s here to help and I don’t really think we can afford to be picky right now. So if you’re done bitching about it, do you think we could actually talk about how we are gonna get her back?” Scott snapped. They looked down embarrassed at their behavior. 

Just then Stiles, Deaton, and Melissa came running in huffing for breath. “Can you guys please stop running off? I’m getting really sick of chasing after you” Stiles said between gasps of air, hunched over with his hands on his knees. Peter heard a heartbeat falter. Looking over he watched as Derek stepped hesitantly toward Stiles. He had an assessing look on his face. 

“Stiles?” he murmured. Stiles’ head jerked up, eyes locking with Derek’s. His heartbeat stuttered for a moment before picking up pace. Stile’s tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“Hey sourwolf…uhhh, so I’m sorry about the whole umm trying to blow you up at the station thing,” he said with a small grimace. Derek lurched forward a step almost like it was an involuntary response. Awkwardly the former alpha reached out and clapped a hand to the boy’s shoulder. Peter rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah. Everyone’s favorite spastic little human is back. Now can we get started,” he said impatiently. Stiles jerked, flailing as he remembered there were others around. 

“Right! Yeah, umm… let’s do that,” Stiles mumbles face bright red. 

After Stiles calls him the Sheriff calls it in and gets together search parties. They decide that Chris, Allison, and Isaac should reach out to Chris’ contacts again. Derek and the twins track down the werewolf that the twins fought before over the scroll. They offered to trade the scroll (now that they had the message from it) for any other information he might have on the nogitsune. Kira and Scott go to her parents Kira and Scott go to her parents for more information. Peter works with Stiles and Deaton, pouring over every resource available. He reads everything frantically. All dead ends. 

Peter grows more restless with every minute that she is still with that thing. He dodges every inquiry into why he seems to cares so much and ignores all of the curious looks that are thrown his way. After forty-eight hours of looking without rest Peter loses his grip. They are running out of time! God only knows what's happening to her, what that son of a bitch has done. He breaks the coffee table and gouges deep claw marks through part of the couch. It isn't enough. He needs to feel his fangs sinking into flesh, needs the coppery taste of thick blood. He snaps and snarls at anyone that is near.

Suddenly a sharp zing of pain runs through his leg. Stumbling Peter looks down to see an arrow shaft protruding from his thigh. Ripping it out he turns on the hunter. The little Argent bitch, he should've killed her when ripped her aunt's throat out. Letting out a wet low growl Peter stalks toward his prey, relieved to finally have a target for his fury. He gets three more arrows that barely faze him before Derek, Scott, and the twins jump him. They all struggle to hold him down as Deaton gives him a tranquilizer that Peter thinks might have been intended for elephants. Despite how he fights it the darkness floods in. He dreams of strawberry blonde hair and sharp beautiful eyes.


	4. Chase Away the Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading this! I'm sorry it has taken me so long to update, hopefully I can be quicker for the next chapter. Thanks for all of the feedback :) PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!!!! 
> 
> WARNINGS for this chapter: bad language, GRAPHIC violence and torture, and VERY GRAPHIC threats of rape. If these things could be triggers for you then PLEASE don't read! It would break my heart if my writing caused anyone any emotional trauma or anything like that.

Cold. That was the first thing Lydia thought as she came back to consciousness. Her skin was covered in goosebumps. She couldn’t stop shaking. Peter. She needed Peter. Lydia gave a small whimper as she opened her eyes. It was dark. She was standing in the middle of a large building of some kind. Bulky shackles circled her small wrists and a chain attached to a beam above her head. The metal cut into her flesh, blood flowing in small trials down her arms. She tried to relieve some of the pressure but she could just barely stand on her tiptoes. The concrete was freezing under her now bare feet. In fact most of her was bare. She was now in only her underwear. Vulnerable, exposed. Taking in an unsteady breath she tried to look around. It was so dark.

“Hmmmm you’re finally awake,” its voice came from right behind her. Lydia gasped and tried to pull away but the shackles just bit deeper. A tear rolled down her face. She would not let this thing mess with her. Swallowing hard she lifted her chin, clenching her teeth. It walked around her slowly, running its fingertips around her waist. She glared at its smirking face. 

“What, no threats? No more promises of retribution? Of your friends rescuing you?” It laughed. “Or have you finally realized that this is no fairytale?”

“That’s funny coming from the mythical creature,” she snapped. He smiled at her like she was an animal that just did an amusing trick. 

“Regardless. Your friends, your packmate aren’t coming for you. You’re gonna die here, in this room. And it’s going to be slow,” it whispered in her ear. It raised a hand, brushing her curls over her shoulder. Suddenly it backhanded her across her face. She cried out, her skin stinging and burning. It chuckled as it walked away a few steps. 

“Don’t worry, I brought some toys.” It walked back to her and she felt it dragging something cold up her back. A knife. It stood right against her. She felt it’s wet, cold mouth press a kiss on her shoulder just as it dug the knife in. She gave a raw pained scream. 

“Mmmm, beautiful,” it murmured against her skin. It kept digging the knife into her, carving lines through the flesh of her back. It didn’t take long before her screeching turned into desperate pleas. She felt ashamed as she begged for it to stop.

After what seemed like a lifetime it finally pulled away. Lydia sagged, her body hanging from the shackles as wracking sobs shook her. She could hear it moving behind her. Slowly footsteps approached her and she whimpered, cringing away. It walked into her line of vision holding a bucket of water. Its hands and clothes were stained in her blood. It gave her a fond look as it lifted the bucket over her head and began pouring it on her. 

As the liquid reached her sliced skin it burned. Screaming she tried to pull away but the shackles held her in place. The liquid got in her mouth, making her choke. It was salty and tasted bitter. Lemon juice. It was pouring salty lemon juice into her open wounds. When the darkness crept back in she didn’t fight it as she passed out.  


She was in the woods. Leaves crunched under her bare feet. She couldn’t remember how she had gotten there or why. Looking around she noticed a stream running a few feet to her right. She walked over to it slowly. It looked so nice, crystal clear water. She dipped her feet into it only to suddenly sink down, engulfed in the water. Fighting her way to the surface she gasped for air. Wiping the water from her face she opened her eyes. She was in an empty room, in a bathtub. 

Confused Lydia looked down. Blood. She was sitting in a tub filled with warm, thick blood. Screaming she jumped out, slipping she fell to the tile staining red. Scrambling up her wet skin kept slipping on the cold dirty tiles. She finally got to her feet and immediately ran to the door ripping it open. Stepping through she looked around. She was in a graveyard. It was dark, cold, and windy. She was still naked, blood dripping off her and the cold wind made her tremble. Wrapping her arms around her waist she let out a small sob. Tears ran tracks through the red covering her face. She stumbled forward. Looking down she read the names on the tombstones. After several rows she saw one that sent a bolt of recognition through her. Talia Hale.

Stepping up to it Lydia reached out trembling fingertips to trace the letters. She cried harder as she collapse, curling against the freezing stone. After what seemed like forever she heard a twig snap behind her. Instantly quieting she clutched her arms tighter around her knees, nails digging in. Squeezing her eyes shut she tried to curl up even smaller. 

“Lydia,” his voice whispered. Her head snapped up, eyes wide. Peter was standing in front of her with his mouth wide open. His eyes were big, shiny with unshed tears. Tears. Lydia sobbed, letting her head drop back onto her blood covered knees. Shaking hands gripped her shoulders tightly. 

“You’re not real,” Lydia sobbed. “Please n-not him, d-don’t….don’t make me think it’s him, S-Stiles is bad enough, p-please, please, p…” The large hands tightened. 

“Lydia! Lydia, look at me…Lydia! Come on just open your eyes, it’s me…Peter.”

“Nooo! It’s not! Peter wouldn’t cry, he wouldn’t have tears in his eyes! Just leave me ALONE!!!” She screamed in his face, the face that looked like Peter. He took in a ragged breath. 

“Well technically, I have yet to actually shed a tear.” Lydia hiccupped, tears still flowing. She looked at his face. Suddenly she didn’t care. She didn’t care where she was or what was happening. She didn’t care that this probably wasn’t him, was probably a lie, a trick. She just didn’t care.

Flinging herself at him, she wrapped her arms around his strong neck. He stumbled back with an oomph. She scrambled into his lap, her naked legs wrapping around his clothed waist. She buried her face into his neck, laying her head on his shoulder. Her fingers dug into his hair, tugging it hard. Sobbing she clawed at his back, tried to hold him tighter. 

Strong, warm arms wrapped around her bare back. Warm. It seemed like the first time in forever that she felt warmth. It made her shiver. Big hands rubbed over her back, ran through her tangled, bloody hair.

“Lydia,” he sighed her name like it was a prayer. He held her tight, muscles bunching. His face was buried in her hair. She felt his nose rub against her neck. She trembled at the feeling of his breath on her skin. She could smell him, just like she remembered. It was the same smell she would wake up to on her sheets sometimes, although she never caught him in her room. He ran a hand up to grip the back of her neck and she sagged against him. He squeezed gently before using the grip to urge her to sit back. She whimpered but did what he wanted. 

His eyes searched her face frantically. Pulling off his jacket he wrapped it around her shoulders. He reached down and pulled his shirt off. Using the soft, warm material he wiped the sticky blood off her face. It was so gentle. She closed her eyes and sighed. 

“Lydia… Lydia, look at me,” he whispered. She opened her eyes to meet his worried gaze. “Where is this coming from? Are you hurt?” His voice was urgent, anxious. Lydia shook her head. 

“It’s- it isn’t mine, I don’t know where—it was in the bathtub,” she stammered. His brow furrowed. 

“The bathtub? Lydia… what bathtub?” 

“In the room….I-I don’t know what happened and—and then I was here and I don’t—I don’t know what’s happening. Just please don’t leave me,” she begged, her voice breaking.

“Shhhh, I’m not going anywhere, okay?” he murmured. His hand cupped her face, his thumb brushing next to her mouth. Her breath hitched. She ran her fingers through his hair framing his face. Her fingers brushed down his jaw, feeling the rough scrape of his stubble. She hesitated as she reached his chin before carefully tracing the edge of his lips. His eyes flashed blue, catching her gaze.  
A sharp pain shot through her side. Crying out she jerked to the side. Peters hands clenched. Lightening shot through the sky, a bright white. 

“Lydia?! What is—“ 

Another agonizingly painful feeling ran down her back. She clawed at Peter, trying to get away from the pain. Her screams echoed in the dark. Lydia’s terrified eyes met Peter’s for a split second before her head was being jerked back by her hair. An unseen force was dragging her away from Peter. Her screams turned desperate. Digging her nails into his skin she tried to hold onto him. His hands tried to grasp her desperately. He screamed her name as she was ripped from his arms through the dark.  


She was back in the cold. Lydia groaned as she opened her eyes. Her head was swimming and her body ached terribly. She was in agony. Coughing wetly she tried to look around. It was to her left holding a baton. It stalked toward her grinning. Its hands were covered in her blood. When it reached her it brought the baton up, swinging it like she was a piñata. She screeched as her ribs cracked under the blow. Her vision spotted and she was panting as it waited patiently for her to focus on it again. 

It continued to beat her with the baton. The blows rained down on her torso and legs. By the time it was done she was coughing up blood, and was having trouble breathing. Her ribs and right tibia were gruesomely fractured. Her body was already a faint deep purple and all of her skin burned. 

It chuckled, dropping the baton. It gripped her chin in its hand, forcing her to meet its dark eyes. Slamming its cupid bow lips into hers, it forced its tongue into her mouth. Its hands grabbed her roughly making her scream into its mouth as its hands clutched where her ribs were broken. She clenched her jaw as hard as she could. Coppery blood filled her mouth as her teeth sliced through the end of its tongue. It jerked back with a roar. Its fist connected with her face, her lip splitting. 

“You little fucking bitch!!! I should slit your throat right now,” it screamed in her face. “But I’m not going to. I’m gonna wait until you’re begging for me to end it, until you’re nothing but an empty broken and bloody shell.” It stepped behind her, leaning against her raw, ribboned flesh. Reaching around it coiled its fingers around her neck.

“Maybe I’ll keep you. Feed you, keep you alive as my little toy. Make you unrecognizable. I’m gonna carve my mark into your flesh. Mmmm, maybe I’ll kill you while I fuck you raw. Watch the light fade from your eyes as I force my cock into each of your holes. I could cum all over your corpse, leave you like that for your mutt to find,” it snarled into her ear. 

“We could make a video of it all, have it playing when he arrives so he can hear you screaming as I fuck you. Do you think he’d kill himself? Tear his own throat out if I made him watch? Maybe we should wait, make it a live show for all of your little friends.” One hand gropes her breast as the other digs into her open wounds on her back.

She sobs.


	5. Desperation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments!

Peter jerked awake, eyes blazing. Lurching up off the couch he tried to suck in air. His body shook. Faintly he was aware of the others watching him with wide cautious eyes. His chest rumbled and he could feel the vibrations throughout his entire body. There isn’t even a word for the sound that came from his fanged mouth. It’s some terrifying cross between a feral growl and an agonized howl. Derek stepped forward with a hand reached out to him. His lips were moving but Peter couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears. Peter dug his claws deep into the muscle of his thighs. The pain calmed him. Taking a deep breath he gritted his teeth and reined in his frantic emotions. Collapsing back down onto Derek’s ratty couch he looked around at the others wearily. 

“You were screaming her name,” Stiles voice surprised Peter. The boy was peaking around Derek who had placed himself protectively in front of the teen. Peter scrubbed a hand over his face. 

“She was in my dream. It seemed really real.” Deaton made a considering noise. Peter looked over to the man who had a thoughtful expression on his face. 

“What exactly happened in this dream of yours?” Peter sighed but started describing the dream to them. He left out parts, particularly the part where Lydia was naked and straddling him. Deaton rubbed a hand along his jaw and stood in deep contemplation for a moment when Peter was finished. 

“Hmmm, I suppose it’s possible…although it is very rare…” 

“What’s possible?” Peter growled out impatiently. Deaton studied him with a clinical gaze. 

“Dream walking.” Stiles cocked his head to the side. 

“Like sharing dreams? You think Lydia and Peter are sharing dreams?!” he inquired. Deaton gave a shrug. 

“It’s possible, if they were both asleep at the same time. It’s a phenomenon that has been known to happen between individuals that are closely linked in some way,” the doctor explained. 

“LINKED?! How the fuck would he be LINKED to Lydia?!” an annoying nasally voice growled out from Peter’s left. The older wolf didn’t even bother looking over at the obnoxious twin, instead he focused all of his attention on the vet. 

“So you’re telling me that I could communicate with her? In my sleep?” he asked eagerly but with a healthy dose of skepticism. 

“In theory…yes, however it is very rare so even if you were in fact dream walking with Lydia before there is no way that we could guarantee it would happen again.” Peter’s mind raced almost as fast as his heartbeat. The wolves in the room could all hear his pounding pulse but Peter ignored them all. He could talk to Lydia. It was real...sort of. He needed to see her again.

Everyone startled when Peter suddenly jumped back to his feet. Derek grabbed Stiles’ arm and jerked the boy back behind him as he crouched in a defensive stance. Peter rolled his eyes, stalking determinedly past them. Reaching the table he began shifting through papers, books, and other debris. He searched frantically for a minute before growling in annoyance. He turned back around to find the others all staring at him with varying levels of confusion on their faces. 

“Where is it?!” Peter growled out as he stalked forward a step toward Deaton. Scott jumped in between them flashing red eyes. 

“Where is what? What exactly are you looking for?” the true alpha asked with claws out and ready. Peter gritted his teeth. 

“The tranquilizer! What the hell else would I be looking for?” Peter was surrounded by idiots. 

A look of comprehension flashed over the doctor’s face. Stepping forward cautiously the man held up his hands like he was trying to calm a feral animal. 

“We have no guarantee—“ 

“I don’t care!” Peter snarled back. Deaton sighed and the sound made Peter want to tear his fangs into the man. 

“It could be dangerous to give you another dose so soon, we should wait until—“ 

Peter roared. His fangs and claws lengthened dangerously causing Scott to growl out a warning. Derek, Isaac and the twins all shifted and moved to stand next to the alpha. He was going to rip them all apart. They were trying to keep him from her. He would tear them to pieces, rip off their limbs, dig--. 

“Oh for the love of god here,” Stiles’ voice cut through his musings. Snapping his gaze over he watched as the boy walked over and grabbed a bag before walking towards him. 

“Stiles!!” Derek’s voice was filled with exasperated worry. 

“Look, if he can communicate with her for whatever bizarre reason, then I say it’s worth a risk. Especially since the only thing at risk is the creeper’s life. I don’t see the point in your showdown,” Stiles said rolling his eyes. He tossed the black bag to Peter who caught it with a grateful nod. A surprised look flitted across Stiles face and he hesitated before nodding back. 

Peter ripped open the bag and quickly found a syringe and a vial of the tranquilizer. He loaded the syringe before immediately injecting it, ignoring Deaton’s warnings that he was taking twice what was necessary. The wolf was out before he could take one step toward the couch. 

He was standing in front of the old Hale manor. Its blackened exterior taunted him. Turning quickly away he struggled to remember what he had been doing there. Suddenly it all rushed back to him. Lydia. Shifting quickly he threw his head back and let out a long howl. 

Silence. Unable to stand still Peter took off. Racing through the trees he kept howling, searching for her. She had to be there, this had to work. He ran harder, searching desperately. After an indeterminable amount of time Peter heard a distinctive scream in the distance. Shifting direction he let a fresh wave of adrenaline push him faster toward the banshee. 

Bursting through the tree line, he didn’t hesitate before sprinting around the bleachers and out onto the lacrosse field. There! She was kneeling in the middle of the field, digging her fingers into the dirt. Running toward her his nose was assaulted by the stench of her fear, pain, and blood. She didn’t look up when he skidded to a stop in front of her. Wearing only a dainty pair of underwear, Lydia was frantically digging at the soil beneath her. Bruises and slices marred her fair skin. She was dirty and had dried, caked blood all over. Her hair was tangled and wild. But what really chilled Peter to the bone was her eyes. Her big beautiful eyes were unfocussed, glazed over and empty looking. 

Peter reached out with a cautious hand, trying to determine where he could tough her without hurting her. She didn’t notice him at all. Her fingers just kept digging into the ground, scraping away at it with bloodied broken nails. Small burns littered her arms, the smell of burned flesh still lingering in the air. Peter pushed down memories that threatened the last of his grip on his sanity. 

“Lydia?” Peter murmured. Lydia’s body jerked before she went back to digging. Peter brushed his hand on her neck. At his touch she froze, still staring unseeing at the grass. Peter gently urged her face up. 

“Lydia? Can you hear me?...Lydia?!” Peter’s thumb brushed over her pulse point and her heart fluttered. 

“Lydia? I need you to talk to me! Come on sweetheart, please!!!” he begged. Slowly her gaze became less dazed. But with more focus, more pain filled her eyes. Gasping raggedly, tears dripping down her face, Lydia raised one trembling dirty hand and gripped weakly at his arm. Peter was trying to take her pain but it wasn’t working here. Swallowing thickly he waited to talk until recognition filled her gaze. 

“Lydia…I’m so sorry, I-we’re all looking for you but we need your help, okay?” he says gently. Lydia gives a slight nod, leaning into his touch. 

“Do you know where you are? Where you’re being held?” Lydia shakes her head wearily. 

“Okay...that’s-that’s alright, it’s okay! Can…can you describe anything about it to me? Please, sweetheart! It’s really important.” Lydia has to clear her throat several times before she’s able to speak in a raw pain filled voice. 

“It—it’s some kind of….warehouse? Big. It’s big. And really cold,” her voice wavers. “There are really h-high ceilings…with um, beams? That’s what I’m hanging from,” she whispers, subconsciously rubbing her wrists. Peter bites down a snarl. 

“Is there anything else? Anything you can remember?” 

“There are big doors…I’m-I’m facing them. And there’s a symbol…it looks like-like this.” Lydia reached down and started tracing lines in the dirt. It’s painstakingly slow as she tried to draw the symbol with shaking bloody hands. Her brows are furrowed in heavy concentration. Once she’s done Peter memorized the symbol, praying it’ll be enough. 

“Good! That’s perfect sweetheart, you did so good! We’re gonna find you…I swear Lydia, we’re gonna find you and I’m gonna rip that son of a bitch apart!! You just need to hold on a little longer,” he whispered as he gently leaned his forehead against her. God he hated that she’s hurting, hated that he was helpless to stop it. 

He studied her battered face, letting the guilt rock through him before locking it away. He replaced it with the comforting hot rage. Leaning forward he placed a fierce but gentle kiss onto her forehead. She let out a small whimper and her fingers spasm on his arm. 

“Peter… I-“ 

Her words died away into a horrible groan as she jerked forward. Her hands clutched at her stomach before Peter was frantically pulling them away. He watched horrified as her skin split open and blood trickled down from the cuts that were arising. His hands fluttered over her uselessly as it continued. Peter watched with a sickened stomach as words appeared, carved into her flesh.   
My Whore

The words were etched into her skin just below her bellybutton. Lydia clenched her eyes closed, turning away as she sobbed. Growls were ripping through Peter even as he brought her gently into his arms. He was only able to hold her for a moment before she was letting out a fear filled scream. For the second time she was ripped away from him.

Peter woke with a determination and a fury that even frightened himself.


	6. All of Their Worst Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry! I know it's been way too long. There was moving and job changes and no internet and it was just a mess. I am so grateful for all of you that are still with me and I hope to be much better about updates in the future. Please keep the comments coming, I will try to respond to each as soon as I get a chance!

It didn’t take long to find the warehouse. The symbol Lydia drew led them right to it. The building was intimidating, looming over them in the dark. Even those with heightened senses found themselves wishing for some moon light. It was eerily quiet and without even a breeze to break the stagnant feel of the night. Peter, Derek, and Stiles take the front. Chris, Allison, Isaac, and Scott take the back. After a heated argument that only ended with Scott issuing an alpha command, Kira and the twins take up guard outside of the warehouse. Chris utilizes a small explosive to take down the back door. Peter simply uses his strength and anger to break through the front. No one could have been prepared for what waited for them as they stormed inside.   
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Derek’s head jerked around, scanning the darkness. His heart pounded and his palms began to sweat. 

“Stiles?!!” He hissed out. Shit! Where the fuck did he go? They just disappeared. Standing alone in the dark warehouse the former alpha felt a chill race up his spine, the hairs on his neck standing up. The echo of footsteps sounded behind him. Derek jerked around only to come face to face with the impossible. A ragged gasp tore from his mouth as he stumbled back a step. 

“Mom?” his voice was barely recognizable. “D-Dad?” His hands were shaking, hell his whole body was trembling like a leaf caught in a storm. His family. They were all right there. His parents, grandmother, his aunt holding his twin little infant cousins in her arms. And his siblings, all five that he lost. Alex, age 3. His small hands clutching to the blanket that he would never let go. They had been trying to wean him off of depending on it for security. Derek had always hoped that Alex had at least had that when… Anna, age 5. Her big brown eyes stared up at him but the usual grin was missing. She always used to light up when he walked in the room, beg to be given a piggy back ride. Now she just looked at him. Gabby, age 10. Her long hair braided just the way she loved, glasses not quite hiding her sad eyes. Mathew, age 14. He was wearing the jacket Derek had given him the week before the fire. Matt always loved it so much, when Derek gave it to him he acted like he didn’t care but he wore it every single day.

And then there was Laura, age 26. She was wearing the outfit that he had last seen her in. Beautiful and strong she had hugged him that day, told him sarcastically ‘try not to miss me too much while I’m gone Der’ before she had left. She hadn’t known that she wouldn’t be coming back, had no way of knowing just how much he would miss her. He had felt it, even several states away, felt the sudden void in his very soul when his alpha died. Seeing her hurt the most because unlike the others she wouldn’t look at him. He could see the tears in her eyes as she looked down to the side. The last time she had let him see her cry was the night of the fire. They had been at a school dance and Derek had felt the distress from his pack connection. Control slipping he had run out into the hallway to find Laura. That night she had looked at him with fear and horror and pain on her face as the tears flowed. Flowed from glowing crimson eyes. Looking at his family Derek couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe. They were all standing there right in front of him. Talia was the one to break the heavy silence. 

“Why Derek? Why would you do this to us, let HER do this to us?” His alphas voice was filled with sorrow and disgust. Tears dripped from his jaw. 

“M-Mom, I’m…I’m so sor…” the rest of his sentence was lost as the flames burst all around him, stealing his family from him again as he screamed.  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Stiles was alone. Shit. That is never good. His life had a tendency to be like a horror movie and everyone knows that things don’t go well for the characters that are suddenly alone in the creepy ass warehouse. That usually ends bloody. Turning around wildly he tried to go back to the door but it was gone. Fuck. Of course. 

“Derek?” Stiles sighed at the answering silence. He rubbed a hand over his face wearily. He was so tired of this shit. Opening his eyes he froze. She was standing right in front of him, smiling so sweetly. He caught a whiff of her lavender perfume and it almost brought him to his knees. Her dress was beautiful, just like it had been at the funeral. He couldn’t move, couldn’t find the strength to react in any way as his mother sadly shook her head. 

“Oh baby, what are you doing? You’re not supposed to be here. I gave up everything,” she said softly, stepping toward him. “There were so many options, ways to improve and lengthen my life expectancy. I gave them up, all for you. There was no way for me to get the structure, routine, and care I needed. Not with a hyperactive son like you around. How many times did your behavior trigger an episode?” Disappointment shone in her beautiful amber eyes as she looked at him. 

“People with my condition need a calm environment. You took years off my life. And now look at you. All of my sacrifices and you just throw it away like it meant nothing. Baby, how can you just run head first into danger like this? Do you even care what you are doing to your father?! Haven’t you taken enough from him!” Stiles sobbed. He wishes that she would scream at him, but she wasn’t. She whispered the words in a quiet, hurt voice full of betrayal. 

Tears were rolling down her beautiful face. He tried to step forward to comfort her but found himself suddenly stopped. Looking down he was covered in hospital wires and IVs. They wound around his entire body, tangled. He was helpless to do anything but watch and cry and scream as she backed away from him. Her body looked more frail and weak with each step. The last glimpse he had of her was just like she had looked the day she died. Her cheeks sunk in, hair bedraggled and frayed. The amber eyes that haunted him every single day in the mirror were once again dull and without any signs of recognition for the son that she gave so much up for.   
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Scott looked around the empty building in confusion. Where the hell did the others go? A zing fills the silence just before a familiar pain rocks through him. Letting out a roar the alpha fell to his knees clutching his thigh where an achingly familiar arrow is embedded. Two more quickly followed, lodging in his shoulder and abdomen. Growling he looks up to see Allison. But…it’s not Allison. It looks like her, holding the bow calmly in her hands, full of confidence. But Allison never could look at someone the way this girl was looking at him. 

Her gaze was dark, malicious, and calculating. Even at her worst the huntress had never looked at him so coldly before. It was like he was an animal. One that she was considering mounting on her wall like a trophy. Allison stalked toward him in the deadly silence. She lifted her bow and aimed another arrow straight at his heart with steady hands. 

“Allison!! W-what…Stop! This isn’t you…just stop it!!” Scott screamed. She paused. Scott felt a small flicker of hope that was quickly crushed as she let out a small humorless chuckle. She clucked her tongue at him condescendingly. 

“Oh but it is Scott. I’m exactly as I was always meant to be, it’s in my blood.” She gave a cruel laugh. “Or did you honestly think that your love would be enough to make a difference? That our Romeo and Juliet bullshit would ever have a chance of ending any way but bloody? Awww that’s…pathetic. Well at least we won’t both die in this version. Actually, the whole love will save us thing is kinda funny if you think about it.” The huntress leaned over the alpha, whispering directly into his ear. “After all, you were actually the catalyst for my…development into who I am. If I had never met you, my family would still be intact, and I would still just be a sweet naïve high school girl.” Her long, slender fingers ran along the arrow in his chest before she got up.

Allison looked down at him with a smile before raising her bow again. “The person I am now is exactly who you made me.”  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Allison tried not to shiver in the cold dark. She kept her weapon ready as she tried to scan the darkness. A zap noise and flashes of light filled the dark just before a jolt ran though her body. Her fingers spasmed, losing their grip on her bow as she dropped to her hands and knees. Trying to get her breath back she opened her eyes to see a cattle prod. Following it up she looked straight at her dead aunt. Kate looked down at her with the mischievous grin that Allison used to get so excited to see because it meant they were about to do something that her parents probably wouldn’t agree with. Just like the time her parents had gone out of town and Kate snuck her into a bar to play pool. But what really horrified her and filled her with an anguished terror wasn’t Kate. She was almost used to seeing Kate by now. All of her breath left her in a whoosh. Standing just behind her aunt was her mother. 

“Allison. I think it’s about time we discuss just what happens to hunters that fraternize with the dogs.” Her mother’s voice was cold, emotionless as she stepped forward, knife gleaming.   
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Isaac sniffed frantically, trying desperately to catch Allison’s scent. Nothing, she was gone, everyone was gone. How the hell did that even happen? Gritting his teeth the teen kept running down the corridor. Turning the corner he skidded to a halt. No. That’s impossible.

“You… no, y-you’re dead!” His father sneered at him. 

“You ungrateful little shit! If you weren’t such a fucking coward nothing would’ve happened to me that night. But you just had to be a little pussy and run away. Even with super senses and strength you were still a pathetic little bitch weren’t you?” his father spat in his face. A meaty fist connected with Isaac’s jaw. Closing his eyes he spit out blood. 

He opened his eyes just in time to catch a glimpse of the hatred on his dad’s face before the freezer lid slammed shut. No. 

“No, no, no,NO!!!!! LET ME OUT!! AHHHHH!!!!!!!!”  
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Chris couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Victoria. That’s impossible, he saw, he felt the life leave her body. But there she was right in front of him, close enough to touch. His finger brushed across her cheek leaving behind a line of stark red. Blood. He tried to wipe it away but the smear just grew. She looked at him with contempt. 

“It’s your fault. You dumb son of a bitch. I told you that the dog needed to be put down. But you weren’t man enough to do what had to be done. WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE A TEAM CHRIS!!” She scoffed. “You were never a real hunter, just a pathetic excuse for a man, a pathetic excuse for a husband and a pathetic excuse for a father. You’re going to get her killed just like you got me killed. Our blood is on your hands.” Chris looked down to see the knife in his hand. He dropped it, turning his hands over to find them drenched in blood. Just like that night.  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Peter snarled. It was empty. And what’s worse, he had somehow lost the others. Where the fuck were they?!! They didn’t have time for this shit! Growling he went back to the door, flinging it open to see…..

“Laura?”


	7. One Last Brilliant Beauty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: graphic descriptions of TORTURE and SEXUAL ASSAULT without penetration. (Unwanted frottage, fondling etc). PLEASE, PLEASE, DO NOT READ IF THESE COULD BE TRIGGERS FOR YOU!!!!! This is dark and parts are gross, sorry.

Time had lost all meaning to her. There was nothing but pain and cold and darkness. Her throat was raw from screaming. So much blood pooled on the floor below her that for a moment she had a hysterical hope that she would just bleed out. That cowardly thought was crushed when the monster simply gave her a blood transfusion. It was prepared. It was going to keep her forever. She finally had no more tears left but she never stopped screaming. She could barely remember who she was screaming for. Her pain drugged mind was filled with terror and fading memories of glowing blue eyes. There was endless agony. She couldn’t even escape in her sleep. Instead of dreams, now when she slept there was just nothing. There was no peace. No Peter. 

Lydia wasn’t sure if she should be grateful or sad about the numbness finally starting to take over. She was supposed to hold on, supposed to fight. Peter wanted her to fight, needed her to. She was going to disappoint him. Knowing that was killing her just as much as the monster was. It cut, burned, and beat her. When it got bored with that it would just touch her. That was worse. It would trail its hands up and down her body. Rubbing patterns in the sticky blood that covered her pale skin like it was finger painting and her flesh was the canvas. Stroking, caressing, groping her as she shook and cringed. She had screamed as it pulled her against it, as it rutted against her until she felt it’s cum splash on her back and ass. It had laughed at her as it scooped the cum up and forced it into her mouth. She wondered when it would follow through with its threats of rape, how long she had before it actually penetrated her. Absently she figured it was saving that for when she got too numb, as a way to bring back the horror, to make things fun for it again.

There was no way of knowing how long she had been there by the time she gave up trying to hold herself up. Dangling from her wrists she observed that she couldn’t feel her hands. Distantly she wondered if her fingers might actually start to decay from lack of blood supply. 

When the door came crashing open, such a bright light filled the warehouse that Lydia cringed away from it. It burned her eyes. She couldn’t see what was happening but vaguely she recognized the sounds of fighting. They were too familiar. Growls filled the air, grunts of pain echoing through the dark. Swaying back and forth she startled when a shadow crossed in front of her blurry vision. She was barely able to flinch. 

“Please….j-just let me die. Please,” her voice was unrecognizable even to herself as she whispered the plea once again. A feral snarl sounded from across the warehouse but it didn’t quite drown out the sound of the sob coming from the shadow in front of her. Gentle hands touched her arm. It made her want to throw up. It was always worse when the bastard started with soft gentle touches. She swallowed down bile as the hands ghosted up her bare skin. Lydia felt them messing with the shackles before suddenly they were gone and her body was dropping forward. Dainty, yet surprisingly strong arms caught most of her weight and lowered her to the ground. As gentle as it was, the movement filled Lydia with agonizing pain. This wasn’t right, what was it doing? She struggled to open her eyes against the brightness. The eyes gazing back at her were the wrong color. Too dark, a deep chocolate rather than the whiskey color they should have been.

Lydia didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when she realized Allison was crouched in front of her. Her best friend was dressed in all black, long dark hair tied tightly in a bun. Allison was trying to cradle her close and avoid the wounds covering her body. Tears were dripping down the huntresses fair face as her hands fluttered uselessly over the banshee. 

“Oh…g-god, Lydia… I’m sorry. I-I don’t know where…” Allison closed her eyes briefly, collecting herself. Swallowing visibly the girl sucked in a shuddery breath. “It’s… it’s all gonna be okay now Lyds, I-we’re gonna get you outta-“ her voice was cut off by the sound of an anguished howl. Isaac. Allison’s face lost its remaining bit of color as her gaze snapped toward the door. 

“Go.” Lydia whispered as loud as she could. The huntress’ gaze jerked back and she shook her head, opening her mouth to protest. Lydia knew that Allison loved her, just like she knew the girls feelings for the boy howling for her. “Go.” Allison looked conflicted and guilty, eyes darting to the right briefly.

“I swear Lydia…I-I’ll only be gone for just a second, I just need to get more help….I can’t carry you by myself anyways. But I promise we are getting you out of here, just…just stay still. Here, take this!” She hands Lydia a gun. It feels foreign and bulky in her unsteady hands, the cold metal gleaming wickedly. The huntress caressed a hand lightly over the side of her face, brushing a strand of her tangled, matted hair away. “Just one second!” Allison’s hands trembled before she let go and raced for the door, boots pounding on the concrete.

Through the haze, Lydia could just barely make out movement in the distance. It took immense effort but she was able to focus her vision long enough to see him. Peter. Peter was there, he came for her. His strong body moved fluidly, dodging blows and landing them in a way that seemed natural. The man was wolfed out, vicious claws dripping blood and fangs bared. His eyes were the glowing brilliant blue that she had been wishing for but they were filled with a malicious madness that even she had never seen. Watching him, a sob of relief wracked her body and his gaze darted over to her. It was only for a moment, but that was all the nogitsune needed. The dagger in its hand was jammed into Peter’s stomach with a sickly wet sound.

It took her a moment to realize that she was screeching. The scream of a banshee. The scream of death. Peter stumbled back, pulling the dagger from his abdomen. The nogitsune stalked forward smiling. It was going to win. The nogitsune was going to kill Peter. No. Not Peter. The fucker could do anything, have anything it wanted. But Peter was off limits. Peter is hers. 

Lydia didn’t even realize that she was moving until she had dragged her beaten, broken body over to the table. Bits of concrete scraped her already raw, flayed flesh. A trail of blood was left behind her when she reached the table after what felt like forever. Everything she needed was there. She went through the steps in a daze, desperately hoping that she was doing it right. When she was done she gripped the table with slippery, bloody hands and pulled herself up. She was standing leaned heavily against the table full of the tools used to torture her. For a terrifying moment she thinks she is going to faint but she clenches her teeth and fights through it, trembling so much that the instruments rattle.

Her grip is surprisingly strong as she raises the gun. By this point Peter is on the ground spitting up blood. He raises his gaze and looks right at her. She watches as he takes in the gun, then the bucket, and finally the matches gripped in her other hand. She watches as confusion is replaced with shock then fear then pure horror as he realizes her plan. He starts screaming at her but she blocks out the sound as she aims.

The shot hits the nogitsune in the back causing it to jerk forward before it slowly turns to face her. A sneer twists the boys familiar features. It’s laugh echoes, a cold sound sending tremors through her. 

“And here I thought you didn’t want to play anymore.” It chuckles, grinning as it stalks toward her slowly. Lydia empties the clip into its chest as she tries to back away from the advancing monster. “You would risk your life for his? I was under the impression that he was just your ticket out of here.” 

Losing her balance, Lydia falls back to the ground, tipping the table over in the process. She lets out a cry as she lands roughly. Sobbing she inches back behind the table that’s now on its side. Out of its sight, she can hear it laugh as she lights the match. The small flame is impossibly bright. Staring into it all she can think about is how goddamn pretty it is as it dances and flickers. How can something so destructive and painful be so beautiful? It’s a relief to know that the last thing she will see is this flash of brilliant beauty. One final solitary tear trickles down her face. It leaves a cold trail in its wake. When the monster walks around the table it comes face to face with Lydia holding a lit match above a bucket. She doesn’t bother taking her eyes off the flame but she sense the son of a bitch freeze. 

“You don’t really think you have what it takes-“ 

“FUCK. YOU!” Lydia growls out. She drops the match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, any suggestions or advice is appreciated. I'm sorry this is a bit short, I think the next chapter will be longer, I just liked ending it there lol. And I don't really know anything about bombs so if this was stupidly unrealistic then please just ignore that lol.


	8. Ice in Her Veins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am just a horrible person. I'm so sorry for everyone that's been waiting on me to update. Real life keeps getting in the way, I'm still not at all happy about these next chapters but I didn't want to make you wait any longer. I hope you like them okay. I think I've learned my lesson and for any future fics I write I'm going to finish them before I start posting chapters so I won't be disappointing. Again I'm really sorry! I love your opinions and reactions, please keep commenting!!!

She’s floating. It’s hazy and everything has a distant feel to it. There was something she was supposed to do. The thought hovers just on the edge of her mind but everything seems too heavy to reach it. She can’t quite focus on anything. It feels like it’s been this way forever. She wants it to be like this forever. But Lydia rarely seems to get her way lately. She is jerked away from the good fuzzy feeling by a voice…that voice. 

Lydia’s eyes fly open, her body jerking violently. Bright lights blind her but she sees it. Sees it hovering over her, beautiful amber eyes wide. She’s screaming, jerking wildly in its grip. Pain fills her, is everywhere. There’s only agony. It’s too loud, beeping noises surround her as alarms sound and suddenly there are people everywhere. The abomination’s hands are ripped away from her and she scrambles to escape but different hands grab her. They are standing all around her and the beeping gets worse as she tries to get away. The hands pin her spasming body to the too rough covers of the tiny bed. The people are too loud as they shout orders and instructions. It hurts, everything hurts. She screeches, pleads, and tries to make them stop, to tell them it is there, that they have to get away, but they just hold her harder. Suddenly she feels a wave of something rushing through her. It feels like ice in her veins, chasing the agony and leaving only numb in its wake.

She can feel the darkness coming back, flooding over her and pulling her under. No longer able to control her body she goes limp back on the thin mattress. The hands are now just dull pressures that are slowly disappearing. Sounds get muffled as the beeping slows and the alarms finally stop blaring. Just as her vision is fading she catches another familiar face. Her voice is small, weak and the single word she whispers is slurred. “Mellissa?”   
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Two days pass before Lydia wakes again. Her mother is hovering over her this time, petting her hair with tears running down her face. This is all too familiar. It aches as she tries to smile, to reassure her mom that she’s fine. She isn’t. When she asks about her dad her mother’s face goes carefully blank. Lydia tunes out the excuse, something about a meeting in another country and flight delays. She looks at the flowers he sent with a numb feeling. Everything is numb. She can’t even begin to explain how grateful she is for that. Eventually her mother goes out for coffee and to call her dad with an update. Sheriff Stilinski comes in and asks her some questions, goes over the cover story with her. Basically they are going with crazy random abduction and that she knows nothing. 

As the sheriff leaves another face peaks through the door. Seeing Scott McCall wasn’t shocking but he certainly wasn’t the first of her friends she expected to visit her. He gives her the smile that he saves for victims and she fucking hates it. It isn’t hard to push down the brief rage though, she probably wouldn’t be able to hold onto it if she tried. He sits in the chair the Sheriff had just been occupying. Her eyes track him as his hand gives an aborted motion toward her. He doesn’t seem to know what to do or say, just sits there as his mouth opens and closes. After a moment she takes pity on the boy. 

“I thought maybe you were Ally, or Stiles.” Scott winces. 

“Yeah umm...they’re out in the waiting room. They uh…well, Stiles was in here earlier but you didn’t seem to like that much. It took four nurses to hold you down long enough to sedate you.” Lydia recalls hazy recollections of the amber eyes and cupid bow lips that have been filling her living nightmare. She swallows, looks away out the small window at the rain dripping down the pane. 

“I-I guess maybe I need a little time, just to….”

“Yeah, totally. He gets that.” Scott shifts awkwardly. There is a pregnant pause. Lydia takes a deep breath. 

“You said Allison’s out there to?” She can see in her peripheral vision as Scott’s dark head of hair bobs up and down. 

“Mmhmm, she said that she wasn’t sure if you would want to see her.” His voice is soft, cautious. Lydia turns her gaze back to him, confusion bringing her brows together. 

“What? Why would I not want to see her?” Scott gave a small, sad smile with just a hint of relief. 

“That’s what I said.” Lydia studied him a minute before pursing her lips and sighing. 

“Well could you tell her to get in here? I have a feeling I might not be able to remain conscious much longer.” Scott’s face is suddenly filled with concern. 

“Are you in pain? I could-“ He’s reaching out a hand when she shakes her head gingerly.

“Nah Scott, I’m fine….can’t feel a thing actually. I’m just tired.” He lets out a breath and nods, standing up. He pauses at the door, rubbing his palms on his jean legs. His big brown eyes lock with her green ones, his face earnest and serious.

“We’re all really glad you’re here.” He leaves the room quickly before she can respond. She’s grateful he said ‘here’ and not ‘okay’, sometimes Lydia thinks Scott is more perceptive than he lets on. 

When Allison comes in Lydia can’t seem to get the energy for another smile. So she just looks at the girl. Allison’s hair is tangled, looks like it hasn’t been washed in days. Her big brown eyes are red rimmed and have dark circles under them. Lydia briefly wonders how long Allison has been in the waiting room. The huntress licks her lips and her eyes keep darting around as she creeps closer slowly. She’s wringing her hands in a gesture of nervousness that is odd to see. Lydia can practically hear Allison swallow before the girl takes a deep breath and crosses the last few feet separating them. She flops down into the hard hospital chair, gingerly takes Lydia’s hand in her own sweaty, shaking one. And then the girl just crumbles over, laying her forehead on their hands and starts to cry. It’s so quiet that if it wasn’t for the shaking shoulders and the feeling of the wet tears on her hand Lydia wouldn’t know that the girl was weeping. 

“Shhh,” Lydia’s voice comes out rough rather than soothing like she was hoping. Allison shudders. “Allison. It-it’s okay. Hey now…none of that. You found me.” A sob breaks out. “It’s alright.... You found me. You got me out Ally, it’s okay.” The dark head of hair shakes back and forth. 

“No..I-I didn’t…I left…I-I j-just left you.. a-and then when I got back I s-saw you…you j-just dropped it and…god Lyds, I thought you were dead!!! Th-there was so much smoke!! When we pulled him off of you-“ Lydia’s arm jerks hard. Pain shoots through her briefly before the numbness settles back in. 

“Him? Th-the nog-gitsune?! I-is he not-“ Allison sat up fast, shaking her head frantically. 

“It’s gone! That son of a bitch is gone! Deaton says it looks like we got rid of him for good, you-you don’t have to worry about him. But umm…he- that thing-it wasn’t who we pulled … well…” Allison was staring at her with worried, guilty eyes. She was biting her lip like she wasn’t sure if she should be talking. Dropping her head, the girl stared intently at their intertwined fingers like they could give her answers. 

“What?! For god’s sake Allison, just spit it out!” Allison’s head snapped up, eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

“Peter.” And just like that Lydia’s world tilted. Terror seized her. Shrill beeping filled the room but Lydia could barely hear it, it was like her ears were filled with cotton. There wasn’t enough air, she couldn’t breathe. Suddenly there was a sharp zing of pain in the middle of her forehead. Lydia’s eyes snapped open, a surprised gasp of air filling her lungs. The world started to come back into focus. Mellissa’s concerned but no-nonsense face was above her. 

“Now, are you gonna be a good girl and stop hyperventilating? Or am I gonna have to flick you again?” Lydia blinked at her, sucking in a shaky breath. 

“You….flicked…my forehead?” Mellissa shrugged. 

“Well I needed to get your attention and slapping you wasn’t an option, the side of your face is pretty bruised. It’ll look fine in a couple of days, but in the meantime I’m not about to go smacking it every time you lose focus. Now, before you start freaking out again. Yes, Peter apparently jumped in between you and your little bomb. And yes, he was injured, badly. But he is… alive, and he is in no danger of dying any time soon… unless Derek kills him for annoying the hell out of him by constantly asking about you.” Lydia gaped at her. 

“Wait a minute, then why-“

“Nope, no more questions until your doctor is finished talking to you, then we will tell you anything you want to know.” Mellissa’s tone left no room for argument as she stepped back and Allison immediately gently held her hand again. Melissa stepped outside for a moment before returning with a man in a white coat who approached her bed looking at a clipboard. 

“Ahh, Miss Martin. Looks like you’ll be with us for a while longer. I’m afraid you have suffered from numerous injuries, including a concussion, a fractured zygomatic, your left clavicle is broken in two places, two fractured-“

“Doctor, I’m not certain that Miss Martin is up for a recounting of her injuries…perhaps that can wait until later,” Mellissa murmured. The doctor looked at her before glancing over at Lydia. 

“Hmm very well then. In any event you will be here for at least a few more days, I believe you’re out of the woods but recovery is going to take some time. You need to remain as still as possible, I’ll be back with more instructions as you progress.” With that the man nodded at them before striding out of the room at a brisk pace. Lydia looked over at Allison. 

“Well? If Peter is fine, then where the fuck is he? What, I’m important enough to save but not to visit?” Lydia tried not to let the hurt be evident in her voice but the way Allison is looking at her says she failed.

“That-that’s not it! He…Peter wants to see you but… well-“

“Oh for the love of god. He isn’t healing. Was that so hard to say?” Mellissa rolled her eyes. “Peter hasn’t healed from the bomb. He isn’t at risk of dying or anything but he’s burned badly enough that he can’t leave Derek’s loft. He’s been staying on the couch, all he does is lay there and pester everyone for news about you!”

“What do you mean he isn’t healing?! I thought it had been days?” Allison sighs. 

“It has been. Deaton says there isn’t any reason he isn’t healing, he… I think he just won’t let the healing happen.” 

“Why the hell would he do that?” Allison bites her lip. 

“Well, he won’t talk to anyone but he kinda lost it when you… while you were gone. And when we found you… this is probably gonna sound crazy given that we’re talking about Peter, but well, I think maybe he feels umm…bad about what happened to you. Like maybe he feels responsible? And so this is his way of punishing himself, you know?” Anger runs through Lydia. 

“What?!” She starts trying to pull herself into a sitting position only to be stopped by a combination of intense pain and the other’s hands pushing her back gently. “Let go of me! I-I want to be released, now!” 

“Lyds! You…you’re still healing you need to—“ 

“Exactly! I’m healing. Peter has no reason…he’s being stupid! I need to talk to him.” She struggles harder against their holds, gritting her teeth against the pain. When they refuse to let her up she starts yelling at them. Other nurses rush in. Lydia tries to rip the IV out but can’t get to it before they are injecting a sedative into it. She feels it pulling her under almost immediately.   
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Lydia has no idea how long it’s been since they sedated her. Her mother is asleep in the chair next to the bed. She’s dressed in different clothes so it’s been at least a day. The banshee takes a moment to shake off the woozy feeling. When she’s feeling more in control she reaches over and grabs a jacket off the end of the bed. It takes too long to get settled in the wheel chair with the jacket wrapped snug around her, hood up. She rips the monitors wires and cords off of her. Her mother must be exhausted because she just stays asleep as the monitors go off. Lydia wheels herself out of the room as fast as she can. 

Keeping her head down she rolls right by the nurses rushing into her room. She turns a corner as quickly as her battered body can. Lydia doesn’t stop holding her breath until the elevator doors close.


	9. Guilt Burned into His Flesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's thoughts and feelings, sorry it's short.

She almost died. He can’t stop that thought from racing through his mind. The sight of her, hanging from that ceiling, will haunt him for the rest of his life. He failed. She needed him and he wasn’t there. Lydia. Strong, beautiful, his Lydia had begged to die. She had given up. He heard her whispered plea for mercy, saw the fight leave her eyes as she dropped that match. He recognized the acceptance on her face that she would die.

If he had been a split second slower she wouldn’t have lived. Sprinting to her Peter had felt it when he pushed his muscles beyond even what they could withstand, felt as they tore only to immediately start to knit back together. He hadn’t held back as he tackled her, almost simultaneously flipping the table between them and the bucket. Never will he be able to forget the sound of her bones breaking as he slammed her back on the ground. It saved her life. Using that table and his own body as a shield he had been able to keep her from getting too burned. But in the process he hurt her. He added to the numerous other injuries that were all just as much his fault. 

Peter had regained consciousness just in time to see her being loaded into the ambulance. Once the others reached them Derek had dragged Peter’s burned body back behind some crates. He had watched out of sight as the paramedics had worked over Lydia’s broken frame before the doors were slammed shut and the vehicle raced off. Her heart had been so weak. If she had died…. Peter has no idea how to even finish that thought. It’s so unfathomable that he can’t even come up with an idea of what he would have done. 

The other’s reported that she would recover, that the doctors believed she would live through this. Although there was no lie signaled by their pulse, Peter knew that they were not completely right. Lydia may survive this but she would never recover. Not completely. He had seen it in her eyes. She had already reached that place that he was all too familiar with. The place that you can never quite get away from. The place that leave scars that go so far beyond the physical flesh. The place that had left him twisted in a way that will never be undone. Lydia would not walk away from this with just some scars and horrific memories. She will never be able to get back to the girl she once was. The damage had been done. He was too late. 

Lying on the couch Peter can feel it. It would be all too easy to check out, to slip back to the state of mind he took refuge in after the death of his wife and children. The place of emptiness that was so much better than the tormenting state of consciousness he was currently in. He could do it, he could run from the guilt, sorrow, grief, anger, and fear. He could lock it all down and push it all away until he was just left an empty shell once again. The others would probably kill him rather than risk him becoming feral like last time. It was a comforting thought, so fucking tempting. But he didn’t deserve comfort, didn’t deserve peace or escape. 

He deserved this. Deserved to lay tormented by visions of her tear streaked face and pain filled, dulled eyes. Just like he deserved the pain that wracked his body. He could feel his body wanting to heal, the flesh wanting to knit itself back together, to smooth over the burns until there wouldn’t even be scars left. He clung to the pain, pushing away the healing. Lydia couldn’t heal like that. Even after days had passed she was still lying in the hospital. Being a banshee didn’t come with the healing perk. If Lydia had to suffer the pain of being stuck in her battered, damaged body then so would he. 

The last thing he had expected was for Derek to carry him into his apartment and place him gently on the couch. The young man had pulled a chair up next to him and sat there with a pale face. He had hardly left since. It reminded Peter of his time in the hospital. Derek sitting next to him in silence reading books. Peter had thought it would be impossible to get back to any form of familial concern after all he had done. 

He knew that stopping the healing made the others uncomfortable. Particularly Derek. Although the boy hadn’t been at the house that night so many years ago Peter knew that Derek had smelled it. The stench of burned flesh and hair and nails had clung to Peter when they had pulled him from the fire. Derek must have smelt it when he and Laura had arrived to the hospital to see him. The only survivor. Peter knew that the smell of the burns were taking Derek back to that. He offered to leave, told Derek to just take him somewhere else and leave him there. That it didn’t really matter where he was. Derek just stared at him before shaking his head. It had shocked Peter to be quite honest. 

The smell was the worst kind of torture for him. Even more so than it had to have been for Derek. When his mind and dreams weren’t being tormented by visions of Lydia they were being haunted by memories of the fire. He could almost taste the ash in his mouth, hear the screaming of his loved ones, his pack. It had taking a long time for them to die. Their bodies kept healing as they were burning. It was only once they forced the healing to stop that they were able to finally burn to death, only after the pain was so great that they gave up did they die. Peter wishes that he had done the same. If he had then Lydia’s banshee nature never would have been sparked. She would just be the popular, high school genius. She never would have been dragged into this, never would have suffered. 

The few times he allows himself to drift off to sleep he always sees or hears her. She tries to get to him but he never lets her get close. He is terrified of it not being just a dream, terrified that it’s dreamwalking and he will have to face her. He can’t. He’s ashamed of it but he can’t handle being confronted by her yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next: Lydia confronts Peter!!!!!


	10. What a Pair They Make

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all like this okay, please comment!!!! :) I will try to update soon but no promises

Peter isn’t sure how many days pass before he hears it. The beat is so familiar he could pick it out in any crowd. The sound of her pulse wakes him from the restless sleep he had just been in. He’s so sure he’s imagining it. There’s no way Lydia could be here. With the injuries she sustained it would be at the very least several more days before they even considered releasing her. He’s still clinging to the belief that he is hallucinating when the smell of her hits him like a brick. It’s so goddamn sweet, even under the acrid smell of hospital and blood, even tainted with the stench of her pain it’s still impossibly sweet. It makes his chest clench and his throat tight. It’s threatening his control when Derek opens the door. 

She’s barely standing. Lydia is leaned heavily on a crutch, her left leg encased in a thick cast. She is hunched in on herself clearly in pain, a brace visible on her right wrist. Large white bandages cover large portions of the skin visible on her thin arms. The left side of her beautiful face is swollen and darkened by a bruise, the yellow, black, and blue standing out starkly. There’s a laceration above her right eyebrow that will be a scar. Her plump upper lip is busted and there are dark rings under her big eyes. She has no makeup on, her lovely strawberry blond locks are pulled up in a messy bun with strands escaping to frame her face. She has on nothing more than a pair of baggy sweatpants and her hospital gown. Her small fair feet are bare and look cold standing on the concrete. Lydia’s dainty shoulders heave with the effort to catch her breath. But as striking as it is, none of these things are what really capture Peter’s attention where he is stretched out on the couch. 

Her eyes are no longer dull and empty looking. They are blazing. Lydia is furious. Upon seeing him her expression darkens, features twisting into a disgusted sneer. Peter doesn’t know if he should be grateful that Lydia doesn’t seem to be quite as dead inside or afraid of the apparent hatred of him that appears to have sparked this. Derek is saying something, but Peter can’t seem to focus on the words. He watches as Derek reaches out to Lydia only to freeze at the look she throws him. 

It’s painful to watch as Lydia slowly hobbles her way over to stand mere feet from him. She doesn’t take her eyes off him. When she gets close he realizes that the dark places on her neck aren’t shadows from her chin. They’re more bruises; deep, dark, finger shaped bruises in a ring around her pale throat. Peter has to fight to swallow down his growl. He can’t find it in him to look away as her eyes run over his body making him feel like he’s being burned all over again. Lydia startles him by letting out an animalistic snarl. She throws down the crutch with a clack that echoes loudly through the apartment. Without it she has difficulty balancing and Peter’s arm makes an jerky move toward her. She notices the twitch, her eyes snapping to his arm before latching back on his eyes. 

Glaring at him she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a handful of dark powder before throwing it up into the air. It lands in a perfect ring around her. Mountain ash. Peter feels something in him die at the sight of her standing inside that barrier. Did she really think she needed that? Did Lydia really believe that he would be capable of hurting her, that she needed to protect herself from him? 

Not able to stand it anymore Peter is finally able to tear his gaze away from her. He lets the guilt and shame flood over him as he stares at the charcoaled skin of his arms where they lay on his chest. The skin on most of his body is burn blackened, flaking in some places, oozing in others. It’s a mess of raw red, and dead black. For a long moment there is nothing but a smothering silence. He can feel her eyes boring into him, daring him to look at her. He doesn’t, can’t bring himself to.

“Coward.” The word is spat out at him. He flinches and welcomes the pain it brings. Her voice is scratchy, rough, raw from screaming. He can hear her fast breathing, her pounding heart. She smells like anger and pain but thankfully not fear.

“FUCKING LOOK AT ME!” It sounds like it hurt to scream that, which is enough to make him do as she says, not wanting to hurt her more than he already has. He can’t keep his emotions off his face as he looks up at the young woman. He’s too tired to even try. Something flickers in her eyes, gone too fast to identify. 

“You’re avoiding me. In the dreams. I could feel that you were there, but every time I tried to approach, you fucking ran. And now…look at you! ” Peter doesn’t say anything, clenches his jaw tight enough that he can hear the bones and teeth creaking under the force. Lydia’s expression darkens impossibly more and she sneers at him. 

“Heal. Now.” Her voice is sharp and hard, a demand. Peter is…..confused. The shock must be plainly visible on his face as his eyebrows draw together and his jaw actually drops slightly open. He blinks at her. Lydia glares down at him. Peter licks his bone dry lips and swallows painfully. 

“Errm…what?” Lydia is now looking at him like he’s slow. She rolls her eyes but given how that command was the last thing he expected Peter doesn’t think his reaction is unjustified. Lydia takes a big calming breath, flinching as her hand flies to her ribs briefly. 

“I. Want. You. To. Heal. What exactly is so fucking confusing about that?”

“Why would you want….”Peter swallows around the lump in his throat, once again dropping his gaze. “It’s my fault.” The words are barely a whisper.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Peter’s eyes snap back up to her. “Listen up dumbass. I was taken. By a nogitsune. I was held against my will for days. By a nogitsune. I-I was… hurt. By a nogitsune. You weren’t even there, you-“

“Exactly! I wasn’t there! It took you to punish me for-“ 

“For doing what I asked you to do in the first place. Do you think for one fucking second that I regret that? Regret saving Stiles? No. I don’t regret that and if I had to I would do all of this over again. You aren’t the only one that thing wanted to punish Peter! Oh and by the way don’t think you’re off the hook for trying to hand Stiles over to that bastard.”

“I would have.” Peter can see Derek stiffen in his peripheral vision. “I would have personally delivered any one of your little friends to the nogitsune if that’s what it took. No questions asked, no fucking hesitation. Hell if he wanted I would have helped him kill every last goddamn one of them. I’d have slaughtered the entire town if necessary. If that’s what it took to get him the fuck away from you.” Lydia studies him for a long moment.

“But you didn’t.” 

“I would have.”

“But you didn’t!!” Lydia sighs. “Everyone has lengths that they are ashamed to say they would go to in order to protect those important to them. My banshee nature ensures that I’m useful to you and that makes me important-“

“Now look who’s being the dumbass.” Lydia looks taken aback by his words, she stares at him for a minute before swallowing. Peter looks away. 

“I’ll heal when you do. Until then I’m fine.” Instantly Lydia’s fury is back with a vengeance.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE DO THAT! Don’t you dare talk to me like I’m just some clueless person. You know damn well that I am completely aware of what this is doing to you! You cannot fucking tell me that you’re fine. I know you. So whether you like it or not I know that smelling and feeling burned skin is honest to god torture for you. Personally I think there’s been enough torture here for a lifetime!” Peter grits his teeth. 

“It’s nothing I don’t deserve.” 

“Deserve for what?! For rescuing me? Because that’s what you did Peter!”

“I HURT YOU!!!!!” His roared words take even him by surprise. Lydia’s eyes soften minutely.

“You saved my life.” Peter scoffs. 

“Yeah? Is that why you so fucking afraid of me? Cause I’m such a hero?” Lydia’s eyebrows draw together in confusion. 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re standing inside a mountain ash ring. I assume it’s not Derek you’re protecting yourself from.” Lydia rolls her eyes and throws her head back in exasperation. 

“Oh for love of god Peter, I’m not protecting myself. The mountain ash is there so that you can’t stop me from doing what I have to for plan B. I had hoped that I wouldn’t even need it but seeing as you’re being a stubborn little bitch I guess I don’t have any other choice.” Lydia reaches stiffly behind herself and pulls the string tying her gown together. She lets the material fall to the ground and stands in her bra and sweatpants. A throat it cleared a few feet away. 

“Uh and what exactly is this plan of yours? Seduce Peter into healing? No offense but it doesn’t really seem like either of you would be up for that.” Derek finally speaks up from where he has been watching. Lydia looks at him like he has lost his mind. 

“Wow. You’re not the brightest are you?” Derek glares. “If I was trying to fuck him then why the hell would I be blocking him with the mountain ash? Idiot.” She turns back to Peter. 

Her torso is a mess of discoloration; her ribs have bandages wrapped tightly around them. Peter can see slash marks that have been stitched up and burns littering her fair skin. He wants to throw up. Or rip someone apart. 

“Last chance. Are you gonna heal or not?” Lydia grits out. Peter doesn’t respond, just stares at her defiantly. 

“Fine!” Lydia turns her back to him. The skin there matches the front, if not worse. Reaching one arm up over her shoulder Lydia feels along her back until she reaches stitches. Peter watches confused as Lydia pauses for a moment gritting her teeth. His confusion quickly turns into horror when Lydia begins to dig her chipped nails into the skin. She grunts in pain as she digs up under the stitches. Peter is distantly aware that he’s snarling, dragging his burned body up and tumbling off the couch. He lurches out to her but is stopped by the barrier. Fully wolfed out he sees that Derek his trying to get through the circle too, yelling at her to stop. 

She doesn’t stop. Peter fights desperately against the line as he’s forced to watch her rip the stitches out. The fresh scent of her blood chokes him and makes him gag as it runs in rivulets down her back. She’s whimpering and he can smell the salt of her tears. Her body hunches and trembles for what feels like an eternity. When she turns back around to face him her expression is set and stony. There are tears dripping off her chin and she sniffles. 

“Lydia!!!! Fuck! What- Jesus fucking Christ- why the hell would you…. open the fucking line!!!!!” Peter is screaming, snarling. Lydia grits her teeth. 

“I thought about beating some sense into you but then I realized you would probably just think you deserve that too. You seem to care more about me getting hurt than yourself. So I’ll ask again. Are you gonna heal?” Peter roars. 

“I can’t just- I told you, I-“ 

“Wrong answer.” This time she doesn’t turn. Although he now can’t see the damage she’s inflicting it’s much worse because he can see her face. She doesn’t break eye contact as her face is distorted by pain. She sobs, teeth digging into her bottom lip. Her arm jerks up violently and she lets out a ragged shriek. Her legs give out and she falls to her hands and knees. Peter is wordlessly screaming, clawing at the invisible wall. Bits of his charred skin flakes off with the movement. He realizes that his face is wet with tears. 

Lydia sniffles and whimpers. Her blood covered fingers are spasming and blood is dripping down off her torso. He fights until he runs out of energy. Sagging, he leans heavily against the barrier. Pressing his forehead against it he is filled with anguish. 

“Okay,” he whispers. “Okay, I-I’ll do it. Whatever you want. Just please…please stop that. God Lydia, please break this fucking line. I can’t-“ his voice cracks. Lydia lets out a sob. 

“Heal first.” Her quiet voice trembles. She looks up at him with hurt eyes, tears and snot dripping. He whimpers. Taking a deep breath he lets go of his instincts. He can feel it rushing over him, repairing the damage. It takes a long five minutes or so. It feels like it’s never going to end as he stares at her. When it finally finishes she sniffles and sighs, shoulders dropping in relief. 

“Lydia-“ 

“Okay. Yeah, alright.” She reaches out a shaky hand and brushes it over the dust. He has her before she can hit the ground. Pulling her close he drew the pain from her as quickly as possible. Burying his face in her neck he heard his breath hitch. He knew that they saw his tears, knew that she could feel them on her skin now, just as she could feel the tremors wrack his frame. He didn’t care. He pulled the pain until he heard her sigh of relief and then kept pulling it. She leaned limp against him, cradling her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his neck. He tenderly lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the couch. Sitting down he held her in his lap. Pulling back to look at her he reached up and brushed the tears off her face with his fingertips. 

“You know you’re a stubborn, manipulative bitch sometimes right?” The snark still manages to get through even though his voice is tight, shaky, and raw. Lydia barks out a laugh. 

“I could say the same about you. Although I think I would add controlling, narcissistic, powerhungry and dumbass to the list.” 

“What a pair we make.”


End file.
